


In Your Warm Embrace

by marimoliciousness (thebirdlady)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Bickering, Fluff, M/M, ZoSan Christmas Exchange 2014, a little bit of angst, a little bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebirdlady/pseuds/marimoliciousness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanji’s about to find out that getting caught in a freak snow storm may not be entirely bad when the one you’re lost with is a certain moss-headed furnace.</p><p>Day 24 of the ZoSan Christmas Exchange 2014.</p><p>Contains mild spoilers for Punk Hazard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Warm Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> This is Day 24 of the [ZoSan Christmas Exchange 2014](http://kumiko-sama-chan.tumblr.com/tagged/zosan-christmas-exchange), hosted by the amazing kumiko-sama-chan. Thank you for your hard work! I'm so excited to be part of this project \\(^_^)/
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love <3 and concrit is more than welcome!

_Why does it have to be the shitty marimo?_ , Sanji thought not for the first time as he trudged along a very recently created path through waist-high snow. Why, if he had to get lost in a freak snow storm on what should have been a perfectly agreeable spring island, couldn’t it have been with one of the lovely ladies? Well, apart from the obvious answer, of course, where only one of his crew suffered from severe directional impairment, and the less obvious answer, where Sanji had happened to follow that very same idiot into the storm in what must have been a bout of mental derangement.

He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his dress pants, which did little to ease his shivering. Damn, but it was freezing out here on the open plains, where nothing stopped the (for the moment thankfully snow-less) wind from creeping into every cranny it could find. He took a moment to glare at the broad back before him, moving easily with every precise slash of a blade. The moss-haired bastard didn’t even seem to have the decency to notice the cold. Sanji chomped on the butt of his unlit cigarette, his mood blackening further. Perfectly in line with the rest of this shitty day, his lighter had chosen the least opportune time to run dry. For a moment he was tempted to give it another try, but since there really was no reason to expect a different result after the blasted thing had even stopped spluttering when he snicked the spark wheel, he decided to keep his hands in what little warmth his pockets were providing.

“Oi, Marimo, turn left!”

Zoro grumbled something and started, painfully predictably, cutting towards the right. It took a swift kick to the head to make him turn around and glare at Sanji, who just huffed, the chill that was seeping into his bones having dampened even his fiery temper.

“Don’t give me that look, idiot. The grove is right there.” He pointed to a thick cluster of snow-covered spruce trees nestled against the flank of a gently rising hill, the only patch of darkness in this world of too much white. “How can you miss that?”

“Why don’t you lead the way then, if you’re so clever, Cook?”

“You got us lost, you clear the way.”

“Tch. Just because your skimpy legs are no use. As usual.”

Sanji wouldn't rise to the bait.

He would _not_.

 _Damn_.

By the time they reached the tree line, he was shivering hard enough to make his teeth chatter. The trees were at least sheltering them from most of the wind, but kicking through the snow had left his trousers wet and clinging to his shins like icy leg compresses. He looked morosely at his shoes, the fine leather was definitely ruined. They would still be good enough to wipe the smirk from the marimo’s face, though.

To Sanji’s chagrin, however, the cold was affecting him more than he had cared to believe, his supporting leg giving out when he gathered momentum for his kick. He would have fallen, too, if a large—and irritatingly warm—hand hadn’t shot out to grab him. For a moment both men stood motionless, Sanji literally frozen in place as a strong sense of _déjà vu_ swept over him.

The same grip.

The same look.

The same flutter in Sanji’s stomach.

And then the hand was gone, but not before it had pulled Sanji upright and safely standing on both legs.

Lost for words, he watched Zoro turn away, grumbling, “It’s starting to snow again, we should find better cover.”

Sanji looked up and felt the snowflakes alight in cool little pinpricks on his suddenly overheated face. What was happening to him?

Ever since Punk Hazard Sanji had had weird things happen to his insides whenever the marimo was too close, which made him even more tetchy than usual. After a particularly physical argument that incurred the wrath of both Nami-san and Franky, Zoro had started to keep his distance, clearly not willing to expose himself any longer to Sanji’s increasingly volatile attacks. It had only served to irritate Sanji more. At one point, Robin-chan had made a cryptic remark about not being able to live with someone and not being able to live without them, but Sanji, with all due respect, wasn’t quite following. For him, things had always been simple: he could not live without women, he could easily live without men.

And no-one could deny that Zoro was a prime example for the latter category.

Sanji huffed, chewing on his cold cigarette. He really, really wanted the nicotine. It would clear his head, stop him from being so fucking melodramatic. This wasn’t a matter of life and death, after all.

Punk Hazard had been a close call, perhaps, but why that should make a difference all of a sudden was a mystery to Sanji. It certainly hadn’t been the first time the Strawhats had been in mortal danger, and considering all the dangerous (and weird) situations he’d found himself in since he’d begun following Luffy, being trapped in Nami-san’s beautiful body certainly had been one of the more pleasant ones.

Why then did that memory feel so oddly stale, when he should, by all rights, be basking in it?

The truth was that while his adoration for the ladies was cast in steel, Sanji had experienced a strange cooling towards Nami-san of late. Of course he still treated her like the angel she was, and nothing could ever shake the bonds of Luffy’s nakama. But if he was being honest, Sanji had to admit that he’d become somewhat wary around her, especially so when Zoro was in the same room. He was extremely cautious about it, of course, but he couldn’t help keeping a close eye on those two, even if he didn’t care to look too deeply into what exactly it was he was hoping—or fearing—to see.

Again, his mind returned to that first time when Zoro had reached out to keep him from falling. At the time, Sanji had put it down to the natural reaction of any red-blooded male. He had been in Nami-san’s body, after all. But once his embarrassment (not helped at all by that idiot Brook) had worn off, a nagging feeling had begun whispering to him that something was off. Very much off. For while gentlemanly conduct was one of Sanji’s immutable principles, it certainly wasn’t the marimo’s. Zoro’s natural reaction to women was generally indifferent at best. To Nami-san in particular, though, he had always been exceptionally rude, a fact that Sanji had had ample occasion to berate him for.

So where then had that helping hand come from?

The two years apart had been hard on the crew and the relief and joy to be reunited was palpable for all of them. Perhaps… absence had made the hearts of some especially fond?

The idea sat decidedly uncomfortably in his mind and he glared to where the root of all this confusion was trudging off into the open again. _Damn_.

Shaking off his troubling thoughts, he hurried after the idiot and steered him, none too gently, deeper into the foliage.

***

They didn't have to walk far until they found a small clearing in the woods. In its centre loomed a large, densely branched spruce, dwarfing the other trees around it. Its trunk was nearly twice as wide as Zoro, who was circling around to its lee side and promptly slumped to the ground in one fluid movement. Sanji barely had time to blink before three swords were propped up against the tree, and their owner had crossed his arms over his chest, shut his eye and dropped his head.

Walking up to him, Sanji kicked at a heavy boot.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing, Marimo?”

An eyebrow rose.

“What does it look like to you? Waiting out the snow storm.”

Sanji’s retort was lost in the chatter of his teeth. The wind was pulling on his clothes and now that he was paying attention to it, he could indeed hear it howl outside their little grove. A glimpse through the tree trunks revealed a wild swirl of white and grey, too thick to see through and certainly too thick to walk out into. Damn, but he hated it when the stupid marimo was right.

Rubbing his hands futilely up and down his upper arms, Sanji stood a bit at a loss. The only spot that was protected from the wind was right where Zoro was sitting, apparently already nodding off. Damn the shitty bastard. On any normal day Sanji would’ve just kicked him out of the way, but right now, he was feeling oddly reluctant, and it wasn’t entirely due to the fact that the cold was sapping more and more strength out of his legs with each passing moment.

“Oi, Cook.”

“What-” Sanji’s snippy reply was somewhat ruined when his breath caught. What the hell was the marimo doing?

Zoro wasn’t quite meeting his eyes, which was strange enough, but far more disconcertingly, he had undone the sash at his waist and was holding open his thick green robe in what was hard to mistake for anything other than an invitation.

“Come on over here, already, before you freeze your skinny ass off.”

Part of Sanji’s mind might have registered that Zoro’s gruff voice lacked some of its usual edge, but somehow there were more pressing matters to consider. For example, why the hell he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the wide expanse of scarred chest in front of him, rising and falling steadily with each breath, openly presented to him in—beyond whatever else this was—a remarkable show of trust. Heat was creeping up Sanji’s neck, burning in his ears and cheeks, and his stomach was doing that fluttery thing again.

“No way, you crazy bastard,” he stammered through chattering teeth, not a little confused by the conflicting directions his mind and body were urging him to go. Wanting to run away from Zoro was new and entirely unacceptable, of course, but wanting to run _towards_ him was even more disturbing.

Zoro gave a long-suffering sigh, but he kept his robe open and Sanji could see that the cold was beginning to affect him as well, raising goosebumps on the taut skin, turning his nipples into tight little nubs. Involuntarily, Sanji ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips.

“Listen, Cook, if you want to die out of stupid pride that’s your call. But,” Zoro continued, an evil glint coming to his eye, “if you just end up losing your toes or fingers, I’m very much looking forward to watching you explain to Chopper how you managed to catch hypothermia for no good reason.”

Sanji winced. The marines might mistake Chopper for the strawhats’ pet, and most of the time he was as cute as any reindeer could ever hope to be. But when it came to medical issues, even the Monster Trio took care not to incur the little doctor’s wrath. Besides, Sanji was rather fond of both his toes and his fingers.

“Fine,” he spat, dislodging the maltreated stump of his cigarette from his numb lips in the process. He watched morosely as it tumbled into the dirt. Just. Fucking. Perfect.

“In your own time, Cook,” Zoro said pointedly and Sanji squared his shoulders, deciding to accept the shittiness of this whole scenario if not with grace then at least without any further ado. His toes were, after all, starting to feel like ice cubes _flambé_. He walked the few steps over to the marimo, where he lowered himself to the ground with less elegance than he would have liked. Damn the stiffness in his legs. At least Zoro had the good sense not to comment, but Sanji still felt the urge to make sure that word of this sordid affair would never reach the ears of anybody, least of all his lovely ladies.

“You tell anyone about this, Marimo, and I swear I’ll kill you dead.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Sounding thoroughly unimpressed, Zoro circled his arms around Sanji’s torso and brusquely pulled him backwards until his back was flush against a hard chest. Sanji tucked his legs close to his body and soon he was held, snug and secure, in the blissfully warm cocoon of Zoro’s robe. And damn it if that didn’t feel nice. Sanji ducked his head, hoping that Zoro couldn’t see the flush in his face.

They sat like that in silence while Sanji’s body slowly thawed, the shivers growing less and less violent until they finally stopped altogether. The cold seemed to take Sanji’s awkwardness with it, and little by little he relaxed into Zoro’s arms and the furnace that was his body.

Perhaps, if he hadn’t been feeling so damn comfortable he would have fought the warmth making him drowsy, turning his thoughts sluggish and strange…

_Must be nice, always being this warm._

His head lolled to the side until his cheek rested on soft wool over a hard biceps.

_Smells nice, too._

He pressed his nose against the well-worn cloth, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

_Nice and toasty, like freshly roasted seaweed._

_Mhm…roasted marimo… conveniently pre-marinated in saké…_

Sanji snickered.

“Oi, what’s so funny?” Zoro’s voice rumbled pleasantly against Sanji’s back and without even consulting his mind, Sanji’s body instinctively melted closer to that familiar sound, burrowing deeper into the warm embrace. 

_So warm…_

_How can you be so warm?_

“It’s the muscles,” came the low reply that brought Sanji back into reality with a jolt. Damn, had he really said that out loud? That wasn’t-

_Wait a second!_

“What was that, Marimo?” Sanji tried to sit up, but with Zoro’s arms restricting his movement he had little success. “I’m muscular, too, thank you very much!” he grumbled, even as he was half-heartedly pushing against Zoro’s hold. “Doesn’t mean I’m walking around radiating heat like a fucking stove.”

Zoro scoffed. “Muscular, my ass. Scrawny is what you are.”

“It’s called lean, mosshead.”

“Lean, then.” A pause, then a chuckle. “Lean and mean.”

Sanji’s mouth opened, and then closed again. Even though the idiot sounded far too pleased with what he undoubtedly thought was the height of wit, there wasn’t much that Sanji could say to refute him.

“Whatever,” he said dismissively. “Luckily, I also happen to be gorgeous!”

Zoro only made a non-committal sound and Sanji twisted around to smirk right in the marimo’s face, but again he was held firmly in place.

“Stop squirming, will you?”

Zoro’s voice sounded odd and it would’ve given Sanji pause if his natural inclination to be contrary hadn’t won out. He struggled harder, but that only resulted in the hold on his body tightening even more.

“Stop squirming, shitty cook,” Zoro growled. “I mean it!”

“Why?” With a vigour born of sheer obstinacy, Sanji kept wriggling in Zoro’s arms, looking for a crack in the swordsman’s inhuman upper body power.

It was only when he stopped for a moment to re-gather his strength that Sanji noticed something poking him in a very interesting place.

_Oh._

“Oh!”

Utterly shocked, he scrambled away from Zoro and this time there was no resistance. The sudden drop of temperature as he untangled himself from the heavy fabric of Zoro’s robe immediately made him shiver again, but he spared the discomfort no thought as he rose to his legs, turned and pointed a trembling finger at Zoro.

“You… you! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Zoro shrugged. “How can I help it with you rubbing against me like that. I did warn you,” he said entirely too reasonably, neither his tone nor his body betraying even a hint of embarrassment. His arms were resting easily on his open legs and although the bulge in his trousers was concealed by black cloth and shadows, Sanji found it surprisingly difficult not to look. Just to make sure. Or something.

Zoro was holding his robe wide again. “Now come back here, idiot cook, you’re already shaking like a leaf.”

Sanji stared at him in disbelief. How could Zoro be so nonchalant about this? As if it was nothing to be aroused by a man! And not just any man, but by him, Sanji, his nakama!

Then again, he _was_ gorgeous, obviously.

And then there also was that small matter where he himself had been snuggled up against Zoro only moments before, in what may or may not have gone beyond mere protection from the cold.

As if on cue, Sanji’s teeth began to chatter. An icy chill wascreeping over his skin, making it break out in goosebumps that were just shy of painful. Even his hair was standing on edge. Sanji released a shaky scoff, but in the end he had not choice but to relent to his body’s demand to return to the warmth and comfort so blatantly on offer.

And so he soon found himself back in the snug confines of Zoro’s robe, posture stiff and upright, mind sharply focused on his lower back.

“Why is it not going away?” he asked, after a while.

“Sorry.”

“What do you mean, ‘sorry’? Don’t you see how fucked up this is? We’re both … I mean … we’re nakama,” he ended lamely, completely at a loss about how to express the enormity of the situation to someone who apparently had no concept of propriety whatsoever. Nor did it help that the strange flutter had returned to his stomach, making it frustratingly difficult to think.

“Don’t know how that’s got anything to do with it,” Zoro replied with a shrug. Then, so quietly that Sanji would have missed it if he hadn’t been right in the marimo’s space, he added, “The heart wants what it wants.”

Sanji’s stomach plummeted, leaving him feeling strange and untethered. So he clung to that one niggling thought that kept pushing at his mind, something jarring and not at all compatible with that deep voice he knew so well, having heard it laughing and shouting, in anger and alarm, teasing and grumbling, but always confident or at least determined. And yet Sanji was certain that he hadn’t imagined it, that note of wistfulness that made his own heart clench in something far too close to sympathy.

Sanji didn’t want that! He didn’t want to feel like he and the marimo had anything in common. What he wanted was a normal day where Zoro’s stupid cocoon didn’t feel like the safest place in the world and where Zoro didn’t say things that made Sanji want to hold on to him and return the favour. He wanted to be shooting digs at Zoro for being a pervert or a sop or both, and not have the words stuck fast in his throat. And he most definitely didn’t want his mind to return, like a tongue that couldn't stop testing an aching tooth, to Punk Hazard, back to that moment when he had been someone else.

“I’m not Nami-san,” he said slowly, hoping he didn’t sound as vulnerable as he was feeling.

There was a pause that stretched too long, and with every heartbeat Sanji felt ripped open a little more. 

What if Zoro really did want Nami-san? Why should that make any difference to Sanji beyond, perhaps, the perfectly reasonable wish to protect her honour? Which, truth be told, hadn’t even occurred to him until just now. Nor was he himself interested in her in that way. True, he’d adored her from the moment they’d met, but it wasn’t her who had made his stomach do somersaults just through a simple touch. Twice.

 _Well, shit_.

Sanji swallowed a groan. He was in deep, deep trouble.

All those weeks of watching and waiting had suddenly condensed into one moment of sharp clarity. A moment of truth. His heart was beating a hard staccato rhythm in his throat as he realised the full extent of the pain he’d just set himself up to by asking Zoro to admit to his feelings for Nami-san.

Fuck, if he’d ever needed a smoke, it was now.

A tremor shook his body, ensconced in Zoro’s heat though he was. But then warm hands found his own clammy ones, and began to gently, carefully, fucking _tenderly_ , rub the circulation back into his fingers.

Sanji could have wept.

And when Zoro leaned forward, solid heat at his back, it took Sanji a long, long moment to process the words rumbling in his ear, “I’m well aware of who you are. _Sanji_.”

A completely different kind of shudder ran through Sanji, sending faint electric shocks into his fingertips. His heart beating heavily against his ribs, he craned his upper body around. Zoro let him.

One very dark eye was looking at him with badly concealed apprehension, but then a familiar look of determination stole over Zoro’s features, and before Sanji knew it, a large hand was cupping the back of his head and he was pulled forward into an open-mouthed kiss.

 _Oh_.

_Wow._

By the time it occurred to Sanji that he should be more shocked and less pliant, it was already too late. He had twisted his whole body around to crouch over Zoro’s lap, arms slung around his neck, fingers carding through short green hair, even as his mouth opened to welcome Zoro’s tongue, warm and slick and _everywhere_! And then his own tongue pushed back and soon he was exploring Zoro’s mouth, running it over teeth and skin, lapping up the low and incredibly sexy sounds that came from Zoro’s throat.

And Sanji wanted more, wanted to crawl into Zoro, wanted to touch, to feel. With a sudden surge of longing he pressed closer, Zoro’s hardness sliding against his own clothed erection and they groaned in unison. Sanji kept grinding against Zoro, panting into his open mouth, until his hips were given a gentle, but firm push,creating a bit of space between them.

Sanji wanted to protest, but his lips were sealed by a surprisingly gentle kiss while a large hand moved to hover tantalisingly close over the buckle of his belt. Quivering with anticipation, Sanji’s hands fell to Zoro’s broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his robe as he waited for Zoro to move.

Instead, he was given another soft kiss, before Zoro drew back far enough to look him in the eye. The dark pupil was blown wide, the tan skin flushed, his breathing controlled but heavy. The sense of constrained lust, of _hunger_ , radiating from Zoro was so strong it sent a shiver over Sanji’s skin while molten fire pooled heavily in his groin. In the tight confines of his trousers his cock jerked impatiently, straining towards the heat of Zoro’s hand, noticeable even through the cloth. Why the fuck wasn’t Zoro touching him already?

“Sanji…,” Zoro began, voice like crushed velvet, body coiled in that incredible tenseness that usually preceded the donning of the black bandana. “Sanji, do you really want this?”

Sanji gave an incredulous laugh. “What? My dry-humping you wasn’t a clue?”

But Zoro’s expression didn’t change, dark gaze boring into him, waiting.

Sanji huffed. Then, very deliberately, he loosened his hold on Zoro’s robe and slowly ran his palms up the tendons standing out sharply in his neck, ran them further up until he was firmly cupping the strong jaw and pulled him forward. Sanji allowed himself a small smirk when Zoro came willingly, then leaned in to kiss him with all the conviction he’d got. This wasn’t exploration or fighting for dominance, this was affirmation.

And as Sanji kept putting all the passion that was pouring from his heart into this kiss, cherishing Zoro’s willing mouth, his warm skin and even his ridiculous hair with lips and fingers and words he’d later pretend he didn’t remember, he could feel the tension slowly seeping from Zoro’s body until, finally, the grip on his hip loosened. His tongue deep in Zoro’s mouth, Sanji slid a palm over the gnarled back of Zoro’s hand, entwined their fingers and guided him down and over his erection, gratified when Zoro’s grip tightened reflexively.Sanji’s groan was muffled by Zoro sucking on his tongue, and he only barely retained the presence of mind to press his free hand firmly over the bulk in Zoro’s trousers for some retaliatory fondling.

“Yeah,” he panted, when Zoro’s hitching breath broke their kiss for a moment, “fuck yeah, Zoro, I want this.”

And then Zoro’s hand clenched around him and all thought fled from his mind.

The next few minutes were filled with rather graceless fumbling at flies and pushing at underwear, interspersed by heated kisses and scathing curses whenever a gape in their makeshift shelter let in a draft of frigid outside air. But when long, warm fingers finally wrapped around his cock, trapping it against Zoro’s heavy erection, Sanji forgave everything, except perhaps their lamentable oversight in not having thought to do this sooner. He knew he wouldn’t last long with this delicious friction and Zoro’s thumb flicking over his head every so often. Also, Zoro wasn’t loud by any standard, but the low groans he breathed into Sanji’s mouth were unravelling him just as much the feeling of warm skin and tight muscles under his hands.

After all, this was Zoro who was stroking their dicks together in a large, calloused hand, Zoro who kissed him like he was the first meal after three months on a dry rock in the ocean, Zoro who smelled like roasted seaweed and home. And it was Zoro who made his heart wrench in his chest when he came with Sanji’s name broken on his lips, shuddering and vulnerable in his arms, just for a moment. Just for Sanji.

And Sanji kissed and nipped and sucked a promise for the future into Zoro’s sweaty shoulder as the liquid heat in his groin coiled impossibly tighter, until it became too intense, too much to bear, and Sanji rocked once more, twice, and then came hard, spilling his release into the welcoming warmth of Zoro’s hand.

***

“So, the heart wants what it wants, eh?”

Sanji was sitting in Zoro’s lap, his side propped against the solid chest, his back tucked in the crook of Zoro’s arm and shoulder. One hand lying on his stomach, fingers laced through Zoro’s larger ones, he used his free hand to trace idle patterns into scarred skin, relishing the life and vitality thrumming under his fingertips.

Their afterglow had been cut short by the cold creeping in where they weren’t covered by Zoro’s robe, so they’d quickly zipped up, Sanji making sure that his shirt was tucked securely in his trousers while Zoro had used his black bandana to clean his hand before stuffing the soiled cloth into his pocket. This had been followed by a moment of awkward silence, but when Zoro tentatively opened his arms, Sanji was quick to nestle back into his comfortable warmth. And when Zoro’s hand shyly slid over his own, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slot their fingers together.

“Where did you come up with that one then, Marimo?” Sanji asked, fingers lightly tracing up the groove between the swordsman’s pectorals.

He could feel Zoro tense up, but when no further jibe came and Sanji just went on to gently brush a thumb over his collarbone, Zoro relaxed again.

“It’s something Robin said to me a while ago,” he admitted. “Don’t know why, but it stuck.”

“Robin-swan is a very wise woman.” Sanji shifted a little so he could press a kiss against Zoro’s jaw. “Remind me to make her something special when we get back home.”

He yawned hugely before he dropped his head back to Zoro’s shoulder, hand sliding down until it settled squarely over a slow and steady heartbeat.

A few moments later, Sanji’s breathing had evened out.

_***_

_Why does it have to be the damn love cook?,_ Zoro thought not for the first time as he regarded the notoriously volatile man draped over his lap, sleeping peacefully and drooling on his shoulder. He felt the overwhelming urge to tighten his arms around Sanji, to brush his cheek against fine blond hair, but at the last moment he hesitated, a restraint that had become second nature to him ever since their crew reunited in Sabaody. 

Just then Sanji mumbled something into his skin, fingers flexing gently against his chest before he settled into deeper sleep again and an impossible realisation struck Zoro: he no longer needed to fight this! Sanji knew, and Sanji wanted him. He was allowed to touch! With a trembling sigh he drew the blond closer and carefully buried his nose in his soft hair. Inhaling the familiar smell of smoke and aftershave and Sanji, his chest tightened almost painfully.

He still didn’t understand it. Not why for the two longest years of his life it was the shitty cook of all people who he missed as if Sanji was the air he needed to breathe, and certainly not why Sanji hadn’t kicked his head in when Zoro had finally started slipping down the slope towards the temptation that was Sanji being _right there_! On the contrary, the self (and often loudly) declared ladies’ man had responded to Zoro’s advances with considerably more enthusiasm than he would ever have dared hope.

But Zoro certainly wasn’t complaining.

Not even about Robin, who had sent them out on a stupid errand, even though that devious woman must have known that a snow storm was coming…

If there was something odd about that thought, Zoro didn’t have the time to figure it out before the lingering buzz from his earlier orgasm, pleasantly accentuated by the warm puffs of breath against his skin coming from the, admittedly gorgeous, man in his arms, had drawn him under.

Soon, a duet of gentle snoring filled the clearing, while outside all sound was muffled under the hushed whisper of softly falling snow.


End file.
